


Your Forever Is All That I Need

by fandomstakeoveryourlife



Series: Geraskier AUs [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt is trying his best, Geraskier, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, M/M, Past Abuse, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, eating disorder if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomstakeoveryourlife/pseuds/fandomstakeoveryourlife
Summary: Geralt wasn't often one to push, but sometimes even a man of few words needs to be persistent.Or, 5 time Geralt hated Jaskier's ex and 1 time he didn't
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686772
Comments: 6
Kudos: 311





	Your Forever Is All That I Need

**1**

Jaskier had only ever briefly mentioned his ex a couple times. His numerous previous lovers and all the experience he gained from them, on the other hand? Oh all the time. But his ex had only slipped into conversation a mere handful of times, always prompted by Jaskier and ending as quick as they'd started. Geralt had never dared push for anything more than a drop of the name, or a pained and twisted expression, for fear his boyfriend would shutdown and refuse to open up again. Even so, he couldn't help but wonder wordlessly. What'd that prick done?

Geralt stared up at the ceiling silently; he couldn't sleep. Well, he'd nearly been there, on the edge of drifting off, when Jaskier had untucked himself from Geralt's side and rolled over. And now here he was, laying on back, staring and thinking endlessly. Last time he'd checked the clock, it'd been something past three, and he daredn't look again now; knowing his luck, only ten minutes would have passed, or something stupid. The room around him hung mute and still, and despite his normal complaints about Jaskier's obscene chatter, the silence felt unnatural and heavy, like a suffocating weighted blanket. The quiet atmosphere tugged an unsettling feeling in his stomach and he swallowed hard against it. Geralt scowled at the ceiling: this was ludicrous now. He huffed in irritation and rolled over; his back turned to his boyfriends'.

The first time he heard it, he dismissed it; Jaskier was always making weird noises in his sleep, or muttering half-formed sentences of gibberish under his breath. Once or twice, Geralt could've sworn he even started to sing a line or two of one of his songs. Then it came again; a definite whine. A low whine of distress. Geralt frowned into his pillow. For a moment, he held his breath, waiting to see if Jaskier was just dreaming. A shudder ran over the bed as the man next to him shifted restlessly. Several heavy huffs of breath sounded from behind him and for a moment, Geralt wondered if Jaskier was just touching himself and more vigorous about it than normal. His frown deepened as he dismissed the thought; no, those weren't the kind of noises his boyfriend made. 

"Stop fuckin' shifting, Jask." A cold rod of anxiety wormed its way into his stomach. Behind him, there was another whine: breathier this time, and more panicked. 

"Jaskier?" Geralt propped himself up on his elbows as turned over, his hand probing over the sheets in the dark, grasping for the solid form of his partner. Another shudder ran through the bedclothes. Then, suddenly, there was sweat damp skin beneath his calloused palm, muscles spasming under his touch. He rolled Jaskier over and tucked him into his chest; short hot breaths exploded against his chest and Geralt pulled them both into sitting positions. 

"Jaskier." The name came out growled and animalistic as panic crept up his throat. He was shaking the other man - probably a little more roughly than he should have been - when a slick clammy hand gripped his forearm. Immediately, his grasp on Jaskier's shoulders slackened. Briefly, he pulled away, switched on the bedside lamp, and was back, pressing his bulk against the slightness of the male beside him.

For a moment, there was almost silence in the room again; only laboured breathing echoed between the walls. Geralt touched one of his hands to Jaskier's jaw and trailed it along the bone, tracing over the soft brushing of stubble that was just coming through. Catching his fingertips on the edge of the chin, he gently tipped his partner's head towards him. Jaskier's flesh was pale and oiled with a thin sheen of glistening sweat. His eyelids were closed but fluttering restlessly, casting flickering shadows over the soft purple smudges beneath his eyes. 

"Jaskier. Jaskier, look at me." The lids quivered for a moment, then blinked open. Stormy eyes stared back at him, pupils blown wide with panic, searching desperately for something. A whine erupted from Jaskier's throat. This one was different from the terror swollen ones earlier; it was full of need and want. Need and want for comfort. Need and want for Geralt. 

Cupping the back of his lovers' neck, Geralt touched their foreheads together, their noses bumping comfortably. As they sat, their breathing syncing, Geralt threaded his fingers up through his boyfriend's hair, massaging into the soft flesh at the base of his skill, willing the tension to leak out of his muscles and to relax him.

"I don't wanna go back to sleep." Jaskier mumbled it against his lips, his breath fanning warmth against Geralt's face.

Geralt hmmed in response. "That's understandable." He paused. "What do you want?"

Jaskier huffed out a halfhearted laugh. "You sound like that one guy in every Rom-Com ever." A tremor ran through his body and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Can we, just like, go get a drink and then just sit and watch a film, or something?" His tone was tentative almost; almost unrecognisable as his usual confident and collected ramblings.

"Of course." Geralt made to shift away, when his lover gripped his upper arm.

"Kiss first?" Hmming in agreement, Geralt tilted his head and softly met Jaskier's lips with his own. The beginnings of the taste of morning breath caught on his lips, mingling with the faint saltiness of the sweat glazing his boyfriend's skin. As he pulled away, Jaskier chased after his mouth, bringing them back together for a moment. 

When they eventually made it to the kitchen, both of them in their boxers, they left the overhead light off, choosing to sit instead in the mellow glow of the table lamps dotted about the living space. Jaskier hopped up onto the counter and sat, swinging his legs faintly, while Geralt busied himself with the kettle, pulling mismatched mugs out the cupboard.

"Feel like this is a good time for some of that hot chocolate my mom gave us at Christmas." Jaskier was watching him from his perch; Geralt hmmed in agreement and dug the plastic tub out of the cupboard. Neither of them particularly drank hot chocolate, but it was used occasionally when guests came round, or at times like this when both coffee and tea felt out of place. 

Placing two mugs down on the counter top beside his boyfriend, Geralt slotted himself between Jaskier's thighs, pulling him into an embrace. 

"Want to tell me what all that was about then?" Part of Geralt felt like he should simply leave his partner to bring up the subject himself and talk about it if he felt like it, but the protective side had taken over and he found himself pushing for an explanation.

"Just a nightmare, Geralt. Don't worry about it." Jaskier tucked his head into the curve of Geralt's shoulder, his voice muffled.

"Jaskier." His tone firm and commanding, his grip a little tighter around his boyfriend.

"Honestly, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"If it's nothing, it won't matter if you tell me then." Jaskier lapsed into silence and for a long moment, Geralt thought he'd finally done it; he'd pushed too far and upset Jaskier.

There was a heavy sigh against his shoulder. "It was just about Kai, was all. Just," he hesitated, "things he did to me, y'know, before." He trailed off. 

"Hm." Kai was the ex boyfriend. The one that Geralt knew rather little of, but enough - from what Jaskier had mentioned - to hate him with a passion. He felt his hands grip Jaskier's shoulders tighter and had to refrain himself from digging his nails in. 

"He can't hurt you any more." Geralt wasn't entirely sure if he was saying it for Jaskier's benefit, or his own. But either way, they both needed to hear it.

"I know.

"You're stronger now." He paused. "And anyway, I wouldn't let him."

**2**

"What do you think?" 

Geralt looked up from mug of coffee he'd been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. He was sitting partially hunched over the island with an ugly headache pounding at his temples; he'd had a late shift at the club the night before and it had apparently been a hot night for fights. And then, on top of that, his fuckin' melatonin had decided to have a party and he'd been unable to fall asleep. Hence why he was now drinking his fifth coffee of the day, at four thirty in the afternoon, while Jaskier played dressup.

" _Geraaaaalt_." Jaskier called. He rolled his eyes. "As I was _saying,_ what do you think?" 

He was dressed in some shimmery greenish silken suit, with orange buttons and yellow stitching details. He grinned and pirouetted on the spot. 

"It looks awful." 

Jaskier hmmed and frowned. "You've said that about the last three." He trailed off. "Worse than the pink and purple one?"

Geralt hmmed in response, sipping his coffee and wishing Jaskier would hurry up so he could just take a bath, go to bed and be done with this stupid day. His boyfriend stood in the door frame to their bedroom, muttering to himself and gesturing vaguely while chewing his lip.

"Okay. Which one is the _least_ awful? Out of all of them, I mean." 

He sighed heavily. "The blue one." Jaskier grinned and raced back into the bedroom, singing out his thanks over his shoulder. 

* * * *

It was some stupid time when Jaskier got back, and Geralt was half awake. He'd made some attempt to sleep and had managed about two hours, but then something had kept him awake. He told himself it was just because he wasn't used to sleeping at that time, but in the back of his mind he knew it was to do with Jaskier. 

His boyfriend had been invited out to some dinner thing by his co-worker Gail. Honestly, Geralt didn't entirely really know what the whole thing was about, other than it related to music and he was going as friends with a waitress who worked at the bar where he frequently performed. Geralt was a little confused as well, because Jaskier had seemed all excited about the whole thing, and made a big show of choosing what to wear, but then wouldn't explain what the evening was planned to consist of because it was "unimportant", and wouldn't hear anything else of it. 

Not that Geralt was jealous; he didn't get jealous. At least, not really. He was just....confused.

The slam of the front door to the apartment snapped him out of his thoughts and Geralt hitched himself up in bed to turn on the lamp. 

"Hey, you. What are you still doing up?" Jaskier padded into the bedroom with his shirt untucked, his tie hanging loose around his neck, his azure blazer draped over one arm and his shoes dangling from his fingers. He was grinning, but there was a heavy air of tiredness around him and the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Geralt found the corners of his mouth twisting upwards in fondness. 

"Couldn't sleep." 

"Waiting up for me, I think you mean." Jaskier turned his back to Geralt and started tucking his suit away into the closet, stripping off his shirt and trouser, hanging them up as he went.

"Hmm. Something like that." Geralt had adjusted himself so he was sat up against the headboard, the covers pooling around his waist. "How was the dinner?"

"Oh. Y'know, it was okay." Geralt frowned. 

"Just okay? What did you do?" 

"Oh, come on, Geralt. We had dinner. It was okay. Can we not do this now?" Geralt's frown deepened into a scowl; it wasn't like Jaskier at all to be so stingy on the details of something. Normally he never stopped talking after something like this.

Now in just his boxers, Jaskier flopped down onto the bed next to Geralt, his face buried in the comforter. 

"What happened?"

Jaskiers' head snapped up, his stormy eyes staring at Geralt in mild confusion. "What?"

"This evening. What happened?" His tone was firm and his expression was set. No arguments.

Jaskier let out a forced, almost nervous, laugh. "What _are_ you on about Geralt? I told you; nothing happened. The evening was good. Now, can we please drop this and go to sleep?"

"No." Geralt folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the feeling that he looked and sounded like an infant throwing a tantrum.

"For gods sake, I don't know what you want me to tell you, Geralt." Jaskier spluttered, throwing his arms in the air.

"The truth. Stop lying to me, Jaskier. _What_ _h_ _appened? "_

"Nothing _happened,_ Geralt. I just-" Jaskier hesitated and dropped his face back down into the quilt. Geralt sat silently for a moment, waiting. Then his boyfriend slowly pushed himself up and crawled across the bed to sit opposite him, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them.

"If I ask you something, can you answer truthfully?" Jaskiers' eyes had an odd, almost tearful, sheen to them, as he locked eye contact with Geralt. 

"Of course, Jask." Geralt's frown had returned with vengeance and his brows knitted together as he stared back.

Jaskier hesitated. "W-What do you think of my fashion sense?" Geralt blinked in surprise at the question.

"It's very, uh, you." It was hard to put Jaskier's clothing choices into words. 

"But what does that _mean?_ Does my fashion sense annoy you? Would you be ashamed to be seen out with me? When you say you think my clothes are awful, do you mean it?" His eyes were shining more now and something in Geralt's chest clenched; someone had told him these things before; that it annoyed them; that they would be ashamed to be seen out with him; that his clothes were awful, and meant it.

"No, no and no." Geralt scowled. "Sometimes I do question your choices, but I'm not ashamed." He licked his lips, willing the right words to spill into his mind; he was bad at talking at the best of times, and this was certainly not one of those times. "If I didn't like your choices, I wouldn't still be here. I wouldn't choose them for myself, but they're very you. And that's a good thing." His voice dropped low and quiet as he spoke. "If I thought something didn't look good, I'd tell you, and you'd know it." He huffed out a breath and fell silent again.

Jaskier laughed wetly and sniffed. "Wow. I think that's the most I've ever heard you say." Geralt gave him a look. "I'm _kidding._ " He paused and sniffed again. "Thank you."

"Jask, c'mere." Geralt opened his arms a little and his boyfriend crawled up into his lap, curling his head into Geralt's chest. Pressing a kiss into Jaskier's hair, he pulled him against his body, entwining their limbs and breathing even.

**3**

One of the first things that had stood out to Geralt when he'd first seen him, was his _unusual_ choice of instrument; it wasn't every day you saw someone playing a lute in bar, at least, not these days. And yet, that'd been how they'd met. It'd been over a two years ago, now, when Geralt had been working at his old job - still as a security guard - at a bar called _The Gulet._ Jaskier had been the live music that night, and after getting a taste while dealing with a fight, Geralt'd dropped back in to listen. One thing led to another and the night had ended up with the two of them stumbling half-tipsy into Jaskier's messy shoe box of an apartment. For some reason, Geralt had hung around in the morning, and, well, that was that.

Despite how annoying his boyfriend could be with his inconveniently timed composition and lute-practise, Geralt thought there was something oddly beautiful about Jaskier when he played. Perhaps it was the thoughtful chaos of it all; the way he would perch on a barstool at their kitchen island, or on the sofa, form arched over his instrument, a page covered in scribbles draped over one knee. Sometimes, if he'd been at it all day, or stayed up all night, the room would be littered in a sea of half crumpled and jaggedly torn pages of notes, illegible to anyone but Jaskier; a chewed pencil often sat clamped in his teeth as his hair whisked up a hurricane about his head, his fingers chord-cramped. Perhaps it was the care he took with his instrument; the way he polished the surface until is shone like glass in the sunlight; the way he tuned it by ear, carefully twisting the pegs and pulling faces in concentration. Perhaps it was the way he threw his entire being into his singing, as if nothing else matter more than being in that moment and doing the best he could.

Even so, there were times when Jaskier's practise did more bad than good:specifically when Geralt was meditating. Sometimes he could've sworn Jaskier did it on purpose, just to see how far he could push it. This, was one of those times, and Geralt had had enough. He'd already had to calmly - but firmly - ask Jaskier to quieten his playing, or just stop altogether, but apparently the message had quite gotten across, because now his boyfriend was shrieking like some fucking banshee, and Geralt was done with this shit.

Striding from their bedroom into the living room, Geralt shoved open the door with enough force for it to bang into the wall behind it loudly. 

"I thought I told you to fuckin' _quit it_." The words came out angrier than he intended, but honestly, he didn't really care all that much right now. 

Jaskier's head snapped up and he stared at Geralt for a moment, his mouth hanging open, before he sputtered out a "you said said be quieter, and I was being!"

Geralt scowled. "Wailing like a cat whose tail's been trodden on isn't quieter." He growled. Jaskier had the audacity to look offended.

"That was _singing,_ I'll have you know." 

"Well I'm trying to meditate and some blessed silence, for once, would be nice." And with that, Geralt marched back out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went.

* * * *

It was four days before Geralt realised Jaskier hadn't played his lute since their argument. It was odd; they'd had disagreements over Jaskier's playing before, and he'd always picked his instrument back up by the next day, at the latest. But this time, something felt different: Jaskier had been more tense, always on edge and not quite relaxing under Geralt's touch.

"What's wrong?"

Jaskier blinked. "What?" He let out a short laugh. "Oh, Geralt, ever a man of few words. You're going to have to be more specific than that: context, darling, context." He averted his eyes back to the baking show that was currently flickering across the TV screen. Geralt muted the sound and dropped the remote out of reach. 

"Recently." When Jaskier just stared at him in silence, he cleared his throat and carried on. "You haven't played your lute. You've been....tense." He frowned.

"Oh," Jaskier laughed again, but it came wrong: all forced and uncomfortable, "that." He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong, I'm just taking a break, or something."

Geralt's frown deepened. "Hm. Have I done something?" He tried to think for a moment, but all that came to mind was the sharp words exchanged several days earlier.

"Of course not." His boyfriend made an attempt at what was probably meant to be a smile. It looked a lot more like a grimace. 

"It's because of what I said the other day." He didn't need to ask; he already knew.

Jaskier opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked very much like he wanted to argue against Geralt, but couldn't seem to find the words, so just shook his head instead and looked pointedly down at the sofa cushions instead. 

"I-" Geralt huffed in frustration, "I'm sorry." Jaskier let out some attempt at a laugh and sniffed.

"Don't force yourself there, you'll damage something." He looked up at Geralt with suddenly wet eyes. He crawled across the sofa and dropped himself down onto his boyfriend's chest, burying his face and breathing heavily into his shirt. Something clenched painfully in Geralt's chest; it was his fault; he'd upset Jaskier and he hadn't even realised it. How could he not have realised? Or at least, realised sooner.

"Stop it." His voice was muffled by the shirt he was currently talking into, but Geralt heard him just fine.

"Hm?" 

Jaskier sniffed wetly and sat up, looking Geralt in the eye for the first time since the conversation had started. His cheeks were now damp and flamed pink; Geralt's chest tightened. "Stop beating yourself up over something that isn't your fault." He added, "and don't try and argue with me, I know you're doing it."

Geralt scowled. "But I upset you." He exhaled hard, "let me make it up to you."

"No." Geralt blinked hard in surprise.

"No?"

"No. It's not your fault, so you've got nothing to make up for." He was breathing hard, his shoulders heaving like he'd just run a lap around their block.

"Jaskier. Talk to me." It wasn't even a question; it was a command. Something was up and Geralt wanted to know what it was.

The younger male looked uncomfortable and shifted for several moments before answering so quietly that Geralt almost had to hold his breath to hear him. "I know you don't really mind my music, I just-" he hesitated and licked his lips nervously, "Kai didn't, okay? He didn't. And-" Jaskier's breath caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. "I don't know. Apparently you just...triggered something. And, I know you didn't mean to-" his pitch heightened as his slow quiet speech sped up into emotion-driven anxious ramble. Geralt surged forwards and caught Jaskier's lips with his own, silencing him in an instant. 

All too soon, he found himself pulling back, away from the inviting distraction of making out on the sofa; that wasn't what they needed right now. 

"Fuck him." 

Jaskier let out a splutter of surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"Fuck Kai." Geralt frowned at his own choice of words. "Not literally, of course." He paused for a moment. "I like your music." Catching his finger under Jaskier's chin, he tipped his boyfriends' head up so he was looking directly at him. "Don't ever stop."

"Even when you're meditating?" A ghost of a smile tweaked at the corners of Jaskier's lips. Cheeky bugger.

Geralt rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

**4**

"Owww! Fuck! Ow. Ow. Ow. _Fuck._ " 

Geralt swam up through his sleep hazed stupor. "Jaskier?" He called out, blinking and looking blearily at the bedside table clock. It wasn't even ten o'clock. 

When the only reply from the kitchen was more mumbled curses, Geralt called out again, a little louder this time. Swinging his legs out of bed, he stumbled barefoot into the living space. 

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier appeared from the kitchen, looking panicked and flushed. "Everything's fine, don't worry." 

"Hm. What happened?" As he looked over his boyfriend, he couldn't see any injuries, other than the fact Jaskier had his hands tucked behind his back. Geralt ignored whatever excuses Jaskier was babbling and firmly grasped his arms to look over his hands.

Jaskier, on the other hand, did not seem particularly onboard with this idea and was instantly squawking, attempting to free himself from the strong grip of the older man.

"Geralt, what are you doing? What are you _doing?_ I said, everything's fine!" He wriggled determinedly against Geralt, then gave up with a huff. "Fine. I'll show you. but you gotta let me go first." 

Pulling his hands out from behind his back, Jaskier presented a bloodied hand, which he pulled a face at. " _Fuck._ It's bleeding again." He looked up at Geralt, "can we, uh, have this conversation over the sink, maybe?"

Geralt hmmed in response, then fell silent until they were stood in the kitchen: him against the counter with his arms folded and Jaskier with his hand thrust under the faucet. "Talk."

"Gah, pushy." Jaskier grinned up at Geralt, but his smile quickly dropped as he saw the severity of Geralt's expression. "Sorry. Honestly, it's fine, Geralt. I'm fine."

Geralt scowled at him. "Jaskier, just tell me what _happened._ I've woken up to you with blood covered hands; I'd rather not have to assume the worst."

Jaskier's eyes went wide. "What? Oh, god, no. No, no, no. It was an accident. I _promise._ I wouldn't do something like that." He swallowed visibly. "I'm just a clumsy fucker, apparently."

"Jaskier."

The younger man bit his lip, then looked up at Geralt with a nervousness in his eyes. "Just- promise you won't laugh?"

Geralt hmmed and gave a nod.

"I was...making you breakfast, and the knife slipped." He ducked his head. "Was trying to do something nice for you, but apparently I can't even do that right."

Geralt's brows knitted together in a deep frown as the anxiety in his stomach suddenly twisted into something much darker and hard; Jaskier's self-deprecating tone was making his heart hurt, and he had a pretty good inkling why his boyfriend felt the way he did. He cupped Jaskier's jaw and pressed a kiss against his forehead. Without speaking, he turned off the tap and gently led Jaskier to the bathroom, ignoring his rambling questioning tone. It wasn't until he'd pushed the younger male down onto the closed toilet lid and was rummaging through their bathroom cupboard for the First Aid kit, that Jaskier seemed to understand what was going on.

Eventually he located the pesky little red box he set it on the edge of the sink. In continued silence, he disinfected Jaskier's bloodied finger with a wipe and started applying some gauze and a soft bandage with tape.

"Geralt?" Jaskier's tone was so soft he almost sounded fearful. "Geralt, are you angry with me?" 

Geralt just huffed in response; he knew it made sound like he was angry, but in reality, he just didn't know how he could put his hatred for Jaskier's ex into words without breaking something.

"Geralt? Say something, please. Say something so I know you're not mad at me." Jaskier sounded like he was going to start crying and that was really the last thing Geralt wanted. 

He hooked a finger beneath his boyfriend's chin again and tipped his head up. Leaning in so their noses bumped comfortably and their lips brushed, he inhaled the soft and welcoming smell of his lover; the smell of jasmine and lilac and something earthier that Geralt could never quite put his finger on. 

"I love you." The only words of comfort that came to his mind. The only words he needed.

**5**

"I'm on a diet." One simple phrase that immediately told Geralt something was up. It wasn't like Jaskier was eating unhealthily and he'd already been going to the gym with Geralt for over six months, so it wasn't related to _that._ This was something else. It wasn't even like Jaskier had a reason to go on a diet; yeah okay, he wasn't all muscled up like Geralt, but then again, he had no reason to be. But that didn't mean he was fat; he had some muscle and a slight edge of softness, but it was a comfortable softness. 

Whatever diet he was on, it definitely wasn't an _actual_ diet, it was just Jaskier dropping carbs and a some sugar, in exchange for vegetables and caffeine. A lot of caffeine. 

"What's the purpose of this?" Geralt was watching Jaskier with a frown as he stuffed a bullet blender with mysterious green leaves, along with some weird off white milk and about half a dozen supplement powders. 

"This is a nutrient shake, Geralt. It's purpose is to give you nutrients." That was the other thing: he'd gotten incredibly irritable and pernickety. 

"I mean the diet."

Jaskier laughed. "What's the purpose of any diet, Geralt?" 

Geralt shifted a little and frowned; he didn't much like this new Jaskier. "You don't need to lose weight, Jask."

Jaskier just hmmed in response and the room fell silent. 

* * * *

They'd been arguing over Jaskier's stupid diet and now Geralt had been sleeping on the sofa for the third night in a row. If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up with chronic back pain. Or at least, that's what it felt like. 

He just couldn't fucking fathom why Jaskier dieting; he didn't need to at all, but there was apparently no convincing him of that at all. Geralt wondered if someone at work had been harassing or abusing him. Or if maybe he'd seen some ridiculous thing on the internet. Whatever it was, it needed dealing with. 

Geralt's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Jaskier leaving their bedroom. Figuring he was just going to the bathroom, Geralt closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to how to deal with the present issue and how to bring it up-

"Geralt?" A whispered voice from above him made his eyes snap back open to darkness. "You awake?"

Hmming in reply, Geralt hitched himself up onto his elbows.

"C-Can we talk?" There was a thread of anxiety winding it's way through Jaskier's voice that made Geralt's stomach sour.

"Hm. Lamp?" There was the sound of Jaskier fumbling around, and then a click; warm light flooded across Geralt's vision as the corner lamp flickered into life. Padding across the room, Jaskier sat down on the floor with his back up against the sofa by Geralt's elbow, knees bent up, arms hugging them tightly against his chest. Geralt stayed silent; he knew his boyfriend would talk when he was ready.

"I'm sorry." Reaching out, Geralt carded his fingers through Jaskier's hair affectionately.

"What for?" He asked softly.

"Everything." 

Geralt huffed out a little laugh. "You're going to have to be a little more specific than that, Dandelion." Despite that they'd been fighting, he knew the best way to get whatever had been bothering Jaskier out of him, was to be gentle and fond; nicknames were the way to go.

Jaskier made a grunted noise of frustration through his teeth. "I just-" he sighed. "I know I shouldn't be bothered by him anymore, but-" He broke off.

"Kai?" 

His boyfriend turned sharply and stared at him in surprise. "Wh- How did you know?"

Geralt rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Jaskier. You think I don't notice how you get upset over things sometimes? You think I don't notice your insecurities?" He licked his lips and fumbled for the words he wanted: the words he needed. "Just because I don't say anything, doesn't mean I don't notice it." 

Jaskier whined in his throat and dipped his head down. "I'm sorry." 

"Look at me." When the other male raised his head obediently, Geralt continued. "Talk to me."

Jaskier shrugged. "I mean, there's not all that much to tell, I guess, but...He used to continually remind me to keep my weight in check, because he didn't like it when I got _soft._ It just stuck with me for a while, apparently. Well, I got better, and it went away, like everything else. But then, they resurface sometimes, out of the blue." He licked his lips and looked at Geralt for reassurance, who nodded. "I was just taking a shower, and I saw myself in the mirror and, everything just came rushing back." His voice trembled and Geralt's fingers threaded their way back into his hair. "And I hate that we've been fighting. I fucking hate it." Tears that had been brimming in his eyes for several moments now burst their banks and came spilling down his cheeks in salty glistening rivulets. "So, I'm sorry."

Geralt dipped his head down and caught Jaskier's lips with his own; perhaps on another occasion, the prominent taste of salt would have bothered him, but on this occasion, he found himself not caring; this was Jaskier - his boyfriend, his lover - and he needed him. It was hard to tell how long they sat there, chasing each other lips and gently bumping noses in the semi-darkness, but eventually, Geralt pulled back, just enough to be able to look Jaskier in his, now slightly drier, eyes.

"I hate it, too." He agreed. "I love your softness." Jaskier let out a breathy little laugh. "And Kai can go fuck himself, cause it's my opinion that matters now, not his." His voice dropped into a growling tone and Jaskier laughed for real this time. "Now, c'mere, so I can show you how much I love your softness."

And with that, there was a muffled shriek as Geralt hitched Jaskier up onto his lap from the floor.

**+1**

Even though all his shifts were the same length, Geralt could have sworn some lasted longer than others (yes, he was aware how illogical it sounded). Friday and Saturday nights were the worst, for obvious reasons; he could never seem to go a shift, on those nights, without having to deal with at least two fights, carry someone out and deal with a group of hysterical drunkards. To be honest, on recent shifts, he'd be lucky if he managed to get through a whole shift without being vomited on. That night, however, was not one of the lucky nights; he was not vomited upon once, but twice, after which, they sent him home early because very few of their shirts were Geralt-sized. 

This meant that Geralt stumbled through their apartment door around midnight, with aching muscles, a thudding head and stinking of vomit. Jaskier poked his head up from the sofa, pulling a face and wrinkling his nose in distaste. 

"Not that it's not nice to see you home early, but what is that _awful smell?_ You stink like you've been dumped in a middle school cafeteria dumpster." 

"It's vomit." Geralt deadpanned. As much as he wanted to just curl up with Jaskier, he really needed a fuckin' shower.

"Let me run you a bath." Jaskier was suddenly in front of him. Well, not exactly, but a lot closer than he had been a few moments before.

"What?"

"A bath," Jaskier repeated patiently, "let me run you one. Then I can help with your hair, 'cause you look dead on your feet. Go strip and put all your stuff in the wash and I'll have the bath ready by the time your done." Geralt's heart swelled and he hmmed in response.

After peeling off his half-sodden and reeking clothes, he padded to the bathroom, where a wall of heat and floral soap washed over him in a suffocating flood. Jaskier was perched on the opposite end of the bath to the taps and was sprinkling essential oils into the foamy water. He looked up and grinned as Geralt entered.

"In you get." He sounded far too excited about the whole thing for it to be good. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes dramatically when Geralt stood there looking sceptical for a moment too long. "Stop looking at the water like it's evil, and just get in."

The water was hot as it swept over Geralt's legs and his muscles seemed to instantly go to jelly. Jaskier busied himself around the bathroom, collecting various shampoos, conditioners and such as Geralt scrubbed at his skin until it started turning a raw pinkish hue.

"Stop that. You're going to hurt yourself." Geralt blinked and dropped the shower puff into the bubbles. 

"Sorry." He mumbled. 

Jaskier just shrugged. "It's okay. I can tell it's just been one of those days." He wrinkled his nose. "Plus, being vomited on is kinda gross." Geralt hmmed in agreement.

Repositioning himself behind Geralt on the bath edge, Jaskier spread his collected products around him. He slathered his hands and Geralt's hair with shampoo and began to massage it in, running his fingers through the matted strands and working out the knots. Geralt had no idea where Jaskier got the bathing products he used, but the smells always had such a comforting air to them, and he told Jaskier as much.

The younger man laughed musically. "Can't believe I've never told you why I use these scents." He paused, "pre-warning: this story contains my ex." 

Geralt stiffened and growled in the back of his throat. 

Jaskier dropped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed tight. "Hey, no, it's okay. This had a good outcome." Geralt just hmmed. "So anyway, I used to complain about little things sometimes-"

"Used to." Geralt echoed with a snort. 

"Hey! That's rude." Jaskier gently cuffed his lover's ear, then continued rinsing Geralt's hair with a cup. " _Anyway,_ I used to complain about little things, which would apparently annoy him and frequently spiral into arguments. On such occasions, he used to like to remind me how petty I was by giving me affectionate nicknames, such as 'woman', and 'girly' and the like."

"I thought you said this was a good story." Geralt growled.

"I said it had a good _outcome._ Be patient, young grasshopper." Ignoring the middle finger Geralt flipped him, Jaskier began foaming another shampoo into his hair. "It reached the point where it became a running joke that I was the woman in the relationship. A good-natured joke, don't worry. Then, on my birthday he bought me a set of essential oils and herbal scented wash products, and I just kinda fell in love with the smells."

Geralt frowned a little. "But, do you not associate the smells with him?"

Jaskier smiled. "Y'know? I actually don't. I think that I like them so much that they just feel like another part of me; they're a part of who I am now. So I just associate them with me."

For several long moments, there was silence in the bathroom, other than the sound of water pouring as Jaskier rinsed Geralt's hair again, followed by the slick noise of conditioner being lathered into hair. Jaskier fingered combed his boyfriend's hair a final time as he washed out the final conditioner.

"I love you."

"I know you do, my darling. I love you too." Geralt leaned up as Jaskier dipped forwards and they joined in the middle.


End file.
